


No Country For Old Men

by beachtowel



Category: DCU
Genre: Child Death Mention, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:05:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beachtowel/pseuds/beachtowel
Summary: Dick has always felt his panic attacks hit him first at the bottom of his feet. They went cold and clammy, sweaty and itchy, and then the sensation would spread unforgivingly through the rest of his body.





	No Country For Old Men

**Author's Note:**

> Triggers can come in many ways, and they can come for anybody.

Dick was out with his younger siblings and Steph. After a full week of arguments and objections, they somehow all managed to agree to hit the theater that exclusively ran reruns of old movies. That is, when it wasn’t closed due to some form of damage or another, just like any other Gotham business.

  
They decided on the movie "No Country For Old Men" because it was one none of them had watched.

  
Still, it wasn’t the movie itself that Dick was excited about, but the principle of family that he forced them all to accept when he won the bet of quickest criminal hogtie.  


Now, Dick understood that Anton Chigurh was a hitman in the movie, an antagonist. A villain. And while Dick understood that it was a fictional story he was viewing, he couldn’t help but calculate what he would have to do counteract Chigurh’s actions. His mind worked to update his personal moves in strategy as more information came up in the movie, just like he would in real life. It was a fun exercise that didn’t cost him anything if he ever made a wrong move.   


But then an unexpected moment came up when Anton pulls up to the gas station and asks the intimidated cashier a question.   


“What’s the most you’ve ever lost in a coin toss?” he heard Anton ask the scared worker on the screen as he took out a coin.   
  


Dick just stared, his mind at a halt as the bottom of his feet start to get cold. He was wasn't really watching the movie anymore.

  
But he was listening. He heard the fear in the voice of the old man behind the counter. He heard it try to be compliant, carrying out the forced conversation, soft and shaky. He also heard Anton’s coldness. The confidence in the terror he brought forth, in the game he forced on the weak. 

  
Anton flipped the coin, hiding the fate of the innocent man under his fingers.

 

And suddenly Dick gasped hard, not realizing that he wasn’t breathing.   


“Hey, you alright?” Duke whispered next to him, hand on his shoulder, alert.

  
Dick snapped back into his seat that was turning much too cold for him. He didn't miss a beat after.

  
“Yeah!" Dick played his part. "Actually, I just completely forgot I had to make this phone call, like an idiot,” Dick rolled his eyes for humorous effect. “I’ll be right back alright?” And in the next second the large popcorn held his seat.

  
_Just breathe, just breathe, just breathe,_ he told himself over and over again as he made his way out the theater doors, out into the street, and… he didn’t know where he was going exactly but he kept walking.  


It was stupid. He learned all about the power of meditation that proved itself to be useful during times far greater than a film viewing. With training, Dick was almost always able to keep anxiety attacks at bay like tiny, gentle tumbleweeds. But, this one caught him off guard. And it rolled in like a tsunami.   


He heard the sounds of the water running below him now. As the cold city wind hit his face, he found himself drowning. In a frantic moment, he took off his scarf and threw it in a trash as he kept walking. He bumped into a lady, and he flinched too hard.   


“Watch your step, kid,” she scolded just as he was shoved by a second person. He needed to get off the streets.   


“Sorry,” he muttered as he stepped into an alley and subconsciously started moving toward the fire escape stairs and started climbing up. He probably should’ve taken them straight up by foot like a normal individual, but Dick was just trying to get away.   


The coin flip replayed itself over and over in his mind. Different time, different murderer, same bet.   


_“The odds are fifty-fifty, what are the stakes, kid?”_

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't forget the memory. Two-Face asked him to choose between the lives of two men. Dick couldn’t move his arms, they were held in place by two goons as he saw the nooses tied around two hooded men. One was Bruce, the other was an innocent civilian.  


"Clean side up, the judge doesn’t hang." That’s what he heard himself tell Two-Face when he left the life of an innocent man completely up to the fate of the game.  


And the judge didn’t hang. He drowned, because Dick wasn’t careful with his words.  


And then the punch across his face came on, his hands still tied.  


And then a kick to his stomach came.  


And another punch, and then another.  


_And then Two-Face brought out the bat._

  
Robin?  


“Dick?”

  
Dick yelped, a held-in breath swallowed. He was sitting on the floor of a roof, head stuck in between his knees.  


Jason followed him out, and Dick didn’t notice. And now, with Jason blocking the sun from hitting Dick’s eyes, Dick realized that his dramatic exit was more of a disruption than he hoped it would be.

  
“Jason,” Dick’s voice shook as he tried to get up. Jason moved his hand to keep Dick from standing, wanting to give him some more time to settle. And with that, Dick thought about how Jason followed him.

  
Jason has always followed him, and a new wave of nausea crashed over him.  


Because Dick knew that at the end of his worst day as Robin, he still new he would survive. Batman was right there, he would protect him. Or at least avenge him.   


But Bruce didn’t get there in time for Jason. And Dick was not even close enough to be around to help Jason the night under the crowbar beatings of the Joker. Dick wasn't there to protect him. To save him.   


Dick's mind revisited his nightmare all over again. This time, with the new promised scenario of dying completely alone, knowing there was no one to help him from Two-Face. And that the pains and the blows were not going to stop. It didn’t matter to them how old he was.   


Dick dry-heaved.

  
“I’m sorry, Jason. I’m so sorry,” was all he managed to say in between shortened breaths.

  
Jason didn’t say anything there. Instead, he took a moment to look around, make sure the area was cleared. Then he sat down next to Dick. Slowly, he moved the giant, overpriced water bottle he bought at the concessions stand and placed it in Dick’s hands.

  
“It’s okay, Dick,” Jason said. “It’s okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I knowww I didn't mention all of the kids in the fic exactly, but they were there and that's why I tagged them sue me :p
> 
> The scene that triggered Dick. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLCL6OYbSTw


End file.
